


Just Like Old Times

by lynsaneinthemembrane



Category: Gravity Falls, Rick and Morty
Genre: Anal Play, Anal Sex, Bondage, Bottom Rick Sanchez (Rick and Morty), Dom/sub, Fingering, Gravity Falls Spoilers, Latino!Rick, M/M, Masturbation, Rimming, Stangst, Sub Rick Sanchez (Rick and Morty), The Author - Freeform, Wax Play, blindfold, dom stanley pines, mention of the author, predetermined safeword, stan pines/rick sanchez - Freeform, stanchez, top stanley pines
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-31
Updated: 2017-01-31
Packaged: 2018-09-21 05:16:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9533414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lynsaneinthemembrane/pseuds/lynsaneinthemembrane
Summary: A quiet night in for Stan Pines turns into a night he'll never forget when a familiar figure portals his way back into his life. Stan swore to himself he'd never let himself be reeled in by his charm again, but Rick makes him an offer he can't refuse. One last night together couldn't hurt, could it?





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Otome](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Otome/gifts).



> Oh geez this fic is so late. This is my Secret Santa submission that was due by like December, but here I am posting a full month late. This fic took a mind of it's own while I was writing and I just kinda went with it. I like to think it paid off.  
> This is an AU where Ford hadn't hidden all the journals yet before getting lost in the portal. I'd put Stan and Rick in their late 30s, pushing 40 in this fic, so it's probably right around where the 80s turned into the 90s (I don't think I made this very clear in the fic itself, sorry!).  
> Anyway I hope you enjoy!

Stanley Pines tossed around in his bed, struggling to find a comfortable position. Shivering, he curled into a tight ball under the blanket, reaching out to turn his worn space heater to full blast. The coils glowed a bright orangey-red, before emitting a foul, burnt odor. Stan’s heart sunk as he watched the light of the coils slowly die. He lay flat on his back, staring blankly at the ceiling. _Why the hell didn’t Ford keep more blankets around? And why haven’t I gone to buy some more?_ He pushed the thoughts to the back of his head, trying to keep his mind off of the incessant bite of the cold.

He used his hands to rub his forearms, trying to create warmth through friction. Humming softly to himself, Stan began to let his mind wander, trying desperately to feel sleepy. His thoughts turned to his usual late-night musings: rough hands, calloused by years of tinkering, roaming over his body; lips, hard and passionate, crushing his own; his own hands running through unruly, silver hair. He didn’t allow himself to consciously think of his name; even though it had been years since he’d seen the bastard, just the _thought_ of it was enough to push him even farther into the rut he’d dug himself in. But he could never help the memories that came flooding during those late, lonely nights.

Stan Pines was no stranger to loneliness; he sure as hell didn’t like it, but it wasn’t anything new. At least he was great at entertaining himself through those solitary moments. His hand slowly crept down his stomach, slipping under his fleece pajamas. He softly gripped his hardening cock, imagining another man’s hand taking hold. Stan’s breath caught in his throat as he began to gently massage up and down, bringing himself to a full erection. Spitting sloppily into his palm, he slid his hand up and down over his quivering member, quickening in pace. His mind raced, filling his head with memories that he could never forget: clumsy make-out sessions in dirty alleyways; steamy windows in the Stanleymobile; words of passion whispered into his ear in frantic Spanish.

He gasped deeply, back arching as he neared orgasm, tightening his grip on himself. His other hand gripped the rough sheets, and he could hear nothing but his own labored breathing and the hammer of his heartbeat. Beautiful images of a familiar, slender man—tied down and bent before him—blossomed behind his closed eyelids. Muscles clenching, he groaned loudly in anticipation of his orgasm, when a bright, blinding green flash lit the entire room, catching Stan completely off guard.

An all-too familiar, glowing green portal opened up in the middle of the room, and Stan instantly recognized the silhouette that stumbled from it’s depths. He immediately dived back into the pool of nostalgia that he had been drowning in moments before. Before he could stop himself, he was coming hard and fast, an uncontrollable moan leaving his mouth as his warmth seeped through his fingers. The tall, swaying man who had just entered the room let out a bark of laughter, and reached over to switch on a nearby lamp. Stan squinted against the sudden light, swearing under his breath as he hastily pulled his hand from his pants and tried to wipe it clean on his bedsheets.

“H-Hey there, Lee,” the man slurred, “loo-euuRUUUP-ong t-time, no s-see.”

“What the fuck, Rick?” Stan yelled angrily, sitting up. “Haven’t you ever heard of a front door?”

“I-I-I tried knocking, but e-e-evidently you were too b-busy jacking off to notice,” Rick replied, hiccupping. He took a seat on the bed, withdrawing a flask from his lab coat and taking a large swig

“How the hell did you find me?” Stan retorted, face reddening. 

“W-Well, you didn’t make it easy, Stanley—or should I call you ‘Stanford?’” Rick dug around in his lab coat, and tossed down a newspaper clipping on to the bed. Stan didn’t have to look at it to know what it was. “A-and you c-call me an asshole. A-a-at least I’d tell you if I was going to f-fake my own death.” 

“WHAT?!” Stan blew up, unable to contain himself. Half a decade’s worth of hurt and anger came pouring out of him, uncontrolled. “HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO TELL YOU _ANYTHING_ WHEN _YOU_ DISAPPEARED ON _ME_?! DON’T TRY TO MAKE ME FEEL FUCKIN’ BAD FOR DOING WHAT I HAD TO FUCKIN’ DO. YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT I’VE BEEN THROUGH SINCE YOU LEFT. YOU GOT A LOT OF NERVE BURSTIN’ IN HERE LIKE THIS WITHOUT SO MUCH AS AN APOLOGY. A LOT OF FUCKIN' NERVE, SANCHEZ.” 

“Wh-whoa, Lee,” Rick said in a low voice. “I-I-I was just j-jok—” 

“I’m tired of jokes, Rick, now what the hell do you want?” 

“Y-yeesh, I’ll get to the point.” He cleared his throat. “I-I need some help. I bioengineered a new breed of pug, an alien pug, Lee, the c-c-cutest breed of pugs in the universe, Stanley. I-I have a d-distributor who’s gonna sell them for me. I’m gonna m-make a lot of money, Stan, I-I-I-I’m gonna be _rich_. But th-they hate me Lee! Th-the pugs, they hate me. They h-hate me and I-I-I created them! I-I need y-your pug-smuggling sk-skills, Stan. H-help me sm-smuggle these alien pugs, Stan, you’re my only hope.” 

Rick unleashed a huge belch, wiping the resulting spittle with the back of his hand. Stan stared at him in furious disbelief, trying to figure out if Rick was serious or just drunk. Or both. 

“Rick, I’m not in the mood, I really think you should just get—” 

“I-I’ll give you five thousand d-dollars cash. In unmarked bills.” 

“What, is that a bribe?” Stan’s tone changed. His food supply was dwindling. Space heater just died. The Murder Hut still needed a lot of work done to be really marketable. Hell knew he could use a bit of cash. 

“C-Consider it a payment for a service performed,” Rick laughed. He tossed an impossibly thick wad of cash onto the bed. “H-here’s ha-eerruUPP-half. Y-You’ll get the rest when w-we get back. N-Now put some real clothes on.” 

Stan’s bedroom—undisturbed for the past day—once again was lit by the glowing flash of a green portal. Out stepped Rick and Stan, laughing raucously and congratulating each other on the successful heist. The taller man dropped a large suitcase to the ground, it landed with a heavy _thud._ The portal disappeared behind them, leaving them in the dark. Stan groped around for the lamp, as Rick collapsed on the bed. The lamp cast a dim light in the room, and he could see the other chugging the contents of his flask. 

“Hey, save some for me,” he laughed, dropping on the bed next to Rick, snatching the flask from his hand. “I'll take that, thank you!” 

Rick smirked, propping himself up on his elbows. "Th-this shithole's fucking freezing, Lee. I-I can think of a way to keep us warm, though." 

"Oh yeah?" Stan replied, rolling his eyes as he took a large gulp from the flask. He relished the burn of whiskey on his throat.  "Whatcha gonna do, whip together a heater with a broken tv and a Zippo like that one time we got stuck on that junky ice planet?" 

"Hey don't knock it, it worked didn't it? Stopped your bitching at least." Rick reached up, hand going to the back of Stan's neck to play with his hair. "Besides, I got a way better idea than that." 

Rick was suddenly pushing their faces together, kissing Stan hard. He didn't allow himself the opportunity to digest his surprise, instead choosing to accept the embrace with fervor. His lips moved back against Rick's, kissing with unabashed desperation. He stopped only when his lungs were protesting from lack of air. 

"I missed you so fucking much," he gasped as they tore apart, before pressing his lips to Rick’s once again. 

Rick tightened his fingers around a handful of Stan's hair as his other hand went to Stan's hip. He squeezed none too gently. His dick twitched at the moan he elicited. Rick's hand started roaming to Stan's thighs, his stomach, skirting dangerously close to his cock but never giving the other man that satisfaction. Even when Stan jerked his hips towards Rick's touch he just nipped at Stan's bottom lip before pulling away. 

"Y-yeah I can tell how much you missed me, Lee.” 

His hands bunched up the front of Stan's shirt, pulling him as close as possible. Their lips moved together passionately, and Stan marveled at the achingly familiar feeling of Rick’s hair between his fingers. They broke apart for a second, gasping for air, before embracing once again. Rick’s hands moved down Stan’s chest and immediately to his crotch, groping his already stiff member through the thick fabric of his jeans. He moaned into the taller man’s mouth, grabbing a handful of his hair and pulling back, exposing his neck. He planted kisses down his throat, biting and sucking hard, leaving a trail of love marks as far as Rick’s shirt collar would allow. 

“ _Bésame,”_ Rick groaned, hands quickly moving to Stan’s hair.   

Stan obliged, hands dropping to his hips. One pushed up Rick’s shirt, revealing his chest. He continued his path of kissing and biting, torturously slow, one hand holding the other man down firmly. It always amazed Stan how easily he bruised, fingers tenderly tracing the numerous marks he had already left on the brown skin. The bulge in Rick’s pants grew firmer with each moment, and Stan couldn’t stop himself from unbuckling his belt and opening the zipper. His hardened cock immediately sprang from the folds of his boxers, stiff and quivering. Rick shoved his pants down, kicking them off desperately. 

_“Ch-ch-chupa me!”_ Rick gasped, tightening his grip on Stan’s thick locks. _“Chupa mi v-verga!”_

Stan laughed softly, gripping Rick’s erection. He swept his tongue across the underside, from base to head, coming up to take him into his eager mouth. He sucked hard on the head, tongue teasing the slit on top, before taking him all the way in. The tip of Rick’s hard cock hit the back of Stan’s throat, producing a muffled gag. Rick’s chest heaved, back arching as Stan massaged his testicles, head bobbing. He was soon slippery with Stan’s saliva, and the shorter man’s other hand gripped his erection, acting as an extension of his incredible mouth. Stan prodded against Rick’s sensitive opening, masssging in smooth, circular movements, dragging out another moan. 

_“Qu-qué rico,” he panted. “_ Ah, _f-fuck, Lee!”_

In a quick movement, Stan lifted Rick’s pelvis from the bed, and pressed his lips against his asshole, applying pressure with his tongue. Rick hooked his legs around Stan’s neck, hands shooting out to grip the sheets of the bed. His old lover swirled his tongue hard and as deep as he could. Alternating with his thumb, he massaged once again, watching with the other man’s body quiver and jump with every change in his speed and rhythm. Smirking, he abruptly stopped, extracting himself from Rick’s legs. 

“Take the rest of your clothes off,” he instructed in a low, husky voice. “Turn around.” 

Rick did as he was told, quivering in anticipation. Stan unbuckled his belt and slid it off. He leaned over and kissed the back of his neck. 

“I'm gonna tie you up now, baby,” he muttered into his ear. “Like old times. You remember our safe word?” 

Rick quickly nodded, placing his hands behind his back to be secured; without his arms to support him, he buried his head in a pillow. Stan smirked, pleasantly surprised at how naturally the two of them fell back into their old roles. He wrapped the belt around Rick’s awaiting wrists, looping through the buckle and pulling until it was nice and tight. One hand dropped heavily on the other man’s exposed ass, squeezing affectionately. He planted another kiss on the back of Rick’s neck, his mouth slowly trailing down the curve of his spine. Spreading the other’s legs slightly, the kisses moved down to his thighs, mouth touching every spot of his skin, purposefully avoiding the most sensitive spot of all. 

“F-F-Fuck, Stan!” Rick burst out. “St-Stop teasing me already! Do—Do you realize how long I’ve been waiting for this?” 

Stan let out a soft chuckle. 

“You put yourself in this situation, Rick,” he replied. “I think you know that. I'm very disappointed by that outburst.” 

He leaned down and extracted the belt from Rick’s abandoned pants. He folded it in half, slapping the leather lightly against his palm. 

“I’ll start with five strikes. I don't wanna hear you make a sound. One peep and you get five more.” 

Rick nodded once again. Stan reared the belt back, slowly counting to ten in his head, letting Rick anticipate when it would begin. He brought the belt down quickly, leather meeting skin with a glorious _slap!_ His lover flinched, back arching slightly. 

“One.” 

_Slap!_

“Two.” 

_Slap!_

“Three.” 

Rick groaned into the pillow after the third blow, loudly and with purpose. Stan knew exactly what he was doing. Setting the belt down, he clucked his tongue, and retrieved the other’s briefs from the floor.   

“Looks like you forgot how to follow directions while you were gone, Rick. Not that you were ever good at following them in the first place.” 

He grabbed a handful of his wild, silver hair, yanking his head back. The other’s dark eyes bore mischievously into his own; a smirk stretched across his thin face. 

“Open your mouth,” Stan instructed, balling up the underwear in his hand. 

“Why—why don't you m-make m—” 

Rick's words were cut off by Stan's hand firmly grabbing his chin, forcing his lips apart. He stuffed the underwear into his mouth, pleased with his gag. 

“That should keep you quiet.” 

He grabbed the belt once again, and continued with the rest of the strikes Rick had earned, counting out loud with each one. The older man remained silent, barely flinching at each lash. He remained staring forward, accepting the punishment with relish. Stan was surprised at the absence of sound from his lover, expecting more defiance. He dropped the belt to the bed, and retrieved a black trouser sock from the dresser. Leaning over, he created a makeshift blindfold with the sock, placing another tender kiss on the back of Rick’s neck. 

“Turn around,” directed Stan, “lie on your back.” 

Rick immediately complied, flipping to his back with ease. Stan couldn't help but admire the view: the slight flush of red across his lover’s cheeks; Rick’s cock standing erect, precum glistening on the tip; the spectacular purple marks blossoming down his torso. The other man was shivering with anticipation, unsure of what Stan would do next. 

“I'm real proud of you, Rick,” he commended, taking a seat on the bed. 

Stan grabbed a handful of Rick’s wild hair, pulling his head back to place his lips against his neck once more. He kissed down to the other’s chest, nipping lightly at his pert nipple. Rick jolted, a stifled moan coming through the underwear still stuffed in his mouth. Stan allowed it, dropping his other hand to stroke his lover’s quivering erection. He removed the gag from the other’s mouth, tossing the underwear to the side. He gripped Rick’s chin, forcing his lips against his own in a hard, passionate kiss. His lover responded zealously, tongue darting out to force it’s way between Stan’s lips. He jerked away, Rick’s head reaching up to follow, disappointed by the abrupt end of their embrace. 

“What do you want me to do to you?” Stan demanded, quickening the pace of his hand moving up and down Rick’s hardened cock. 

“ _Me gusta tu—tu boca, viejo_ ,” Rick replied, all smiles. “ _Chupa me verga, pendejo_!” 

Stan let out a quick laugh. Burying his hand in the other’s hair, he forced his head back again. 

“Beg for it, slut.” 

Rick’s voice dropped to a low purr: “ _Por favor, poseedor. P-Por favor me chupa_.” 

Stan laughed again, releasing his hair. 

“You get two minutes of head. And you better not move. I wanna hear you moan for me.” 

Stan’s lips met the tip of Rick’s cock, tongue slipping out to slide up the length of his underside. A long, shuddering breath left his lover’s mouth, growing to a low moan as he took him all the way in, sucking hard. One hand fondled his balls, the other firmly holding his hips in place. His lips slid up and down Rick’s erection, revelling in the sight of his panting lover. Inspired, he removed Rick from his mouth with a small _pop!_ His mouth dropped down to take in the entirety of his sensitive scrotum, caressing with his tongue. Crying out, a strong shudder ran through Rick’s body, hips bucking. Stan immediately stopped and drew away, wiping the saliva from his lips with the back of his hand. 

“I thought I told you not to move,” he sighed. “And you were doing so good. I want you to kneel on the floor and wait for me. Back straight, no slouching. Don’t move or make a sound until I tell you to. Do you need help?” 

Rick shook his head, and Stan watched as he sat up carefully, hands still bound and eyes still blindfolded. His feet found the floor, shivering slightly as his bare skin touched the cold wood. He sunk to his knees, still as a stone, head facing straight ahead. Stan nodded in approval. 

“Good little slut. I’ll be back. I wouldn’t hold your breath waiting.” 

Stan added the last part mainly for effect, knowing it was still too cold in the cabin to leave him naked and on the floor for too long. He hurried downstairs to retrieve a few much-needed items: a white candle, some matches, and a bottle of olive oil from the kitchen. Guzzling a beer, he idled about for a few minutes, trying to drag out the time for Rick’s punishment. 

Unable to make himself wait any longer, Stan quietly worked his way back upstairs, excitement bubbling in his stomach at the sight of his kneeling lover. He placed the objects on the dresser before reaching out to stroke Rick’s silver hair. The other man gave no response to his touch, just as he had been instructed. A satisfied smile reached Stan’s lips as he struck a match to light the candle. 

“You can lie on the bed again. On your back. Not a peep.” 

Rick immediately obeyed, silently clambering on top of the bed. Stan watched the reflection of the flickering flame on the pool of melted wax in the center of the candle. He turned to Rick, who was waiting expectantly on the bed, hands still bound under him. Stan knew the position couldn't be very comfortable. He cleared his throat. 

“I'm gonna give you a chance to make up for that little mistake earlier,” he began. “I’m gonna drip candle wax on your chest now. You better stay still. I don't wanna hear anything from you either. You do good and maybe I'll think about letting you cum afterwards. You understand?” 

Rick quickly nodded, biting his lip in anticipation. Stan allowed the candle a few more seconds to burn, before blowing out the flame. He lifted the candle above his head, dripping a few drops on the inside of his wrist to test the temperature. The heat of the wax on his skin was a stark contrast to the frigid cold, but not so hot that it was unbearably painful. Not that it really mattered; if he remembered correctly, Rick had an unusually high tolerance for pain. 

Stan hovered the candle high above his expectant lover’s torso, tipping slowly to splatter the molten wax  on his brown skin. Rick gave no reaction, just as instructed. Just as the first splotches of wax were hardening on the skin, another few drops landed a few inches away. Once again, his lover stayed silent and still. Stan waited a few moments before dropping the rest of the melted wax lower down his abdomen, impressed by the control Rick was displaying.

“Good job,” Stan commended, setting the candle back down. “I think you earned the right to cum. Turn around.” 

Rick obeyed, flipping to lie flat on his stomach. 

“Head down. Ass in the air.” 

The older man positioned himself on his knees, head buried in a pillow. Stan uncapped the bottle of olive oil, pouring a quarter sized amount into his palm. He rubbed his hands together, and pressed a slick thumb against Rick’s entrance. His lover tensed up slightly at the touch, but no sound left his mouth. Stan applied more pressure, using his other hand to stroke himself to full erection. 

“Moan for me,” Stan directed, using his thumb to massage in a gentle, circular motion. 

A low groan emitted from Rick, muffled by the pillow. Stan dripped some oil directly onto the other’s hole, easily slipping his thumb inside. Rick cried out, hands straining against the leather of the belt. Stan slowly worked his thumb in and out, keeping up the circular pattern. He continued to stroke himself steadily, his member slick with oil. Removing his thumb, he smirked at the discontented noise his lover made at the sudden loss of pressure. He slathered more oil onto his his hand, sliding his middle and index fingers into his thumb’s place. Rick let out a strangled cry at the stretch of his thick digits, followed by a garbled string of Spanish curses. Stan worked his fingers in and out—twisting and scissoring—delighting at every moan and cry he drew from his partner. 

“I’m gonna put another one in,” Stan warned, drawing his hand back to apply more oil. 

Rick nodded his head, fists clenched. Stan pressed his first three fingers against his opening, slowly forcing his way in. A low whimper could be heard from his lover, growing to a keen as he pushed in as far as he could go. He spread his fingers as wide as he could in an attempt to stretch him even further. The moaning turned to panting as Stan began to gently work his fingers in and out, gradually increasing the pace. Stan was impressed by how still Rick had managed to stay while he fucked him with his fingers. He carefully watched his depth, not wanting to stimulate the prostate _just_ yet. 

He grabbed the bottle of oil and poured more over his fingers as he pushed in and out, using it to lubricate the taut walls of Rick’s entrance. He coated his hardened cock with another slick layer of oil, and withdrew his fingers. Rick whimpered at the loss, ass pushing back to try to meet Stan’s touch. Using one hand to firmly hold his hips in place, Stan positioned himself at his opening. 

“How bad do you want it?” he growled, teasing the tip of his cock against his hole. 

“So. F-Fucking. Bad,” Rick panted, once again pressing back against Stan. “ _Por favor, papi. Dámelo. D-Dámelo ahora.”_

Stan pushed the head of his cock in slowly, tortuously, basking in the satisfaction at the noises he was producing from his partner. Rick’s back arched at the intrusion, hands struggling against his restraint. 

“Is that what you like?” Stan breathed, resisting the urge to moan. “Does that feel good?” 

Rick nodded again, hips straining in Stan’s grasp. He slid halfway in, breath catching in his throat. He was still so damn _tight._ He gave his partner a moment to ride out the stretch of his girth. Grasping both sides of his bony hips, Stan pushed himself all the way in. An audible gasp fell from his lips as Rick let out a rough groan. Stan tried to steady his breathing, amazed by how _hot_ and _fucking tight_ he was; his grip slackened. 

“Fuck,” he choked, thighs trembling slightly as he grew used to the tautness of Rick’s hole. 

“ _Por—por favor, papi_ ,” Rick repeated, pressing back, causing Stan to sink impossibly deeper. “ _Dámelo._ ” 

He tightened his hold, and slowly slid out, taking a deep breath before forcing back in. Rick moaned in satisfaction, muscles clenching. Drawing halfway out, he pulled his partner’s body towards him. In and out, over and over, starting at a steady pace. Rick’s hips rocked in rhythm to his own, allowing Stan to bury himself as deep as possible. His breathing grew labored as he picked up in tempo, heart racing, jolts of pleasure shooting through his body with each thrust. 

“ _Mas duro_ ,” Rick gasped. 

Stan complied, plunging in as far as he could, his force rocking the other’s entire body. He pounded into him, passion unbridled. He was overwhelmed with unexpected emotion: years of suppression had left him unprepared for how much he missed this, how much he missed _Rick._

He reached around, gripping his partner’s erection, and began to work him, hand moving in perfect unison to the movements of his hips. Switching his angle, he pushed in even further, drawing out a strangled cry from Rick, body tensing. Stan knew he had hit it—the _POW_ button, that little spot that would drive him over the edge—the prostate. His lover moaned with every thrust of the hips, no words, only guttural sound. 

_“Duro, d-duro!”_ Rick urged between groans, throwing his lower half back to meet Stan’s pounding.   

He hammered into him, quickening the pace of his hand on his hardened cock. He felt the walls of his entrance tightening around his own shaft: Rick was close. 

“You don’t finish until I tell ya to,” Stan growled, maintaining the swift rhythm with his hands and pelvis. 

“ _Aye, que rico_ ,” Rick panted, thighs twitching. 

Stan abruptly slowed his movements to a steady grind, hard and deep. He wanted Rick to feel every inch of his girth, wanted to be enveloped in Rick’s warmth. He stroked his length firmly, deliberately, massaging his hand up and down.  Rick buried his head in the pillow again, emitting stifled cries of satisfaction. Stan began to bring up the pace until he was pounding once more, hips flying. A tightening sensation started in his gut, slowly expanding; he was getting close. His rhythm began to falter, and he wanted nothing more than to dissolve into pleasure. He pushed on, falling back in tempo, hips rocking into Rick’s in perfect harmony, fingers digging into his thin waist. He somehow pounded even faster, on the brink of orgasm, not allowing himself the satisfaction just yet. Rick’s back arched slightly at the increase in speed, neck straining. 

“Cum for me,” Stan demanded, sinking as deep as he could go, hand flying up and down Rick’s erection. He released his waist and grabbed the belt binding his hands, pulling his arms back and causing his back to arch even further. 

And then Rick was cumming, cock throbbing in Stan’s hand as his seed shot across the bed. His pulsing walls clamped down around his thrusting shaft, impossibly tight. Rick cried out, a jumbled stream of English and Spanish curses, screaming Stan’s name as he continued to pound into him, his pace and rhythm wavering. 

Finally, Stan allowed himself the satisfaction. The fire that had pooled deep in his abdomen exploded, and the edges of his vision faded to black. Rick’s sounds of pleasure cut to white noise, and he was cumming, hard and fast. His breath caught in his throat and was momentarily silent, before emitting a long, shuddering moan. Involuntary tears welled in his eyes, teetering on the edge of his eyelid before spilling down his cheeks in small rivulets.  All movement ceased, and the couple collapsed onto the bed simultaneously, a  mess of tangled limbs and smiles. 

Stan allowed himself a brief second to wipe his cheeks and catch his breath, before hurriedly unbinding Rick’s wrists, tossing the belt to the floor. He untied the sock, placing a tender kiss on the back of his neck. 

“You okay, baby?” he muttered, wrapping his broad arms around his scrawny torso. 

Rick nodded weakly, scooting as close to Stan as he could; his skin was hot and slick with perspiration, bony frame fitting perfectly in the curves of his own body. They laid there for a moment, completely silent, hearts pounding and chests heaving. Stan kissed Rick’s neck again, lips gently trailing down and across his shoulders. He brought his hands to his back, massaging in broad, deep circles. Rick released a deep, contented sigh as Stan continued kissing down his body, lips brushing across every inch of skin he could reach. 

“You’re so damn beautiful,” Stan sighed, kneading his palms against his sinewy arms, aware of how sore they must be from being tied up for so long. “You ready for a hot bath?” 

Rick nodded again, for once rendered speechless, smiling lazily at Stan. He grinned back sheepishly, planting one last big, sloppy kiss on the lips. He rose from the bed, using a thin blanket to cover the other while he left the room to draw up the bath. Rick was shivering slightly when he returned, curled up in a tight ball under the blanket. Stan scooped him up easily, cradling him tenderly in his arms as he carried him to the bathroom. Rick was uncharacteristically quiet, nuzzling his chest with a satisfied grin. Upon reaching the tub, Stan gently lowered him into the steaming water, before clambering in himself, settling on the opposite end.

 “Y-You really know how—how to treat a guy right, Lee,” Rick stammered, relaxing back in the tub, eyes closed. “Th-This is just what I needed.” 

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Stan laughed, pausing for a moment. “You know, I wasn’t kidding when I said I missed you earlier.” 

To his surprise, Rick didn’t respond, choosing instead to avoid Stan’s gaze by staring at the sudsy bathwater. Stan glared in disbelief. 

“ _Ahem,_ I said, ‘I wasn’t kidding when I said I missed you—” 

“I heard what y-you fucking said,” Rick snapped, cutting Stan off. “Y-you th-think I didn’t miss you every second I was gone? You—you think I haven’t hated myself for leaving you behind? It’s been _killing_ me, Lee! Why d-do you think I came back? For those fucking pugs? Y-you know me better than that. You’re the _only_ one who knows m-me better than that.” 

“Then why did you leave, huh? If you cared that much why the hell did you leave?” Stan shot back, stung—but not surprised—by the outburst. “Which, by the way, you still haven’t apologized for.” 

“What, y-y-you think just cause we used to fuck I-I owe you some kinda explanation? A fucking apology? I-I-I don’t owe y-you _shit!”_

“You think you can just come into my home and talk to me like that?” Stan thundered, hurt and enraged by Rick’s sudden coldness. “You owe me way more than an apology and you know it! The least you can do is give me an explanation.” 

Rick threw him a scowl, sinking lower into the water. 

“Y-you want an explanation?” he consented. “Fine. Sh-shit was getting too real. I d-did what I always do. I d-disappeared. Is—Is that what y-you wanted to hear?” 

“I can’t say I’m surprised,” Stan grumbled. Rick was right, when the going got tough he was the first to portal his way out. “Is that all you have to say for yourself? Why the hell did you even come back, to make some money and get a quick fuck?” 

“I-I-I’m gonna be a dad,” Rick croaked, the color draining from his face. 

“Wait, what?” Stan gasped. “You’re gonna be a _father?”_

“You—you heard me. I-I fucked up. Real bad. I c-can’t do it, Lee. I-I-I’m too mess—messed up. I-I’m just not father material, I can’t deal with th-that domestic bullshit. I-I came back for y-you, Lee. I-I’m so sorry I left, I sh-shouldn’t have left. W-We can travel across dimensions again, Lee. Rick and Lee forever. One—one hundred years Rick and Lee. Y-You’ll never have to freeze y-your ass off in th-this cabin again. It’ll be just like old t-times. Wh-what do y-you say?” 

Stan was at a loss for words. He’d been fantasizing about this moment for years (though he’d never admit it), had always dreamed Rick would somehow make his way back into his life. He knew deep down that he should have been angrier at the fact that he had given no real reason to have left in the first place. But the years he’d spent with Rick had been some of the best of his life, and his loneliness had been getting unbearable over the recent months. Coupled with the fact that he had made next no progress with fixing the damn portal, the appeal was nearly enough to make him accept Rick’s wild offer. Almost.   

“Rick,” he began, trying to keep the uncertainty from his voice. “Listen. As much as I’d love to hop into your spaceship and fly off to some other galaxy, I just can’t do that. I know I never told you much about my twin brother, but his name was Stanford. You wanna talk about messing up? He was a real smart guy, not as smart as you, but smart enough to stand out. Built this portal to another dimension. Nothing like your portal gun. Huge thing. And because of me he got sucked into that thing. Now it’s broken and I have to fix it. I have to get him back.” 

“Portal? D-Don’t you—you understand? I-I-I can fix it real easy for you, Lee—” 

“No, Rick. _I_ have to do this. I have responsibilities now. And you will too, soon enough. I know I can’t make you change your mind and raise that kid, but you could at least give it a thought. If you aren’t gonna love and care for that kid more than life itself, don’t even bother. Better to have no father than a lousy one, in my experience. The kid deserves better.” 

Rick was up and out of the tub before the last few words left his mouth, not bothering with a towel. Stan saw a bright flash emit from the doorway, and knew Rick had gone. He sighed deeply, and before he realized what was happening, he was rocking with heavy sobs. He sunk lower into the lukewarm bathwater, unable to process the whirlwind of feelings and emotions consuming his mind: regret, fear for the future, shame, determination, crippling loneliness. Though he wanted nothing more than to stay in that tub, until the water froze around him, until it was all over, he knew that wasn’t an option. Wiping his eyes and steadying his breathing, he forced himself to exit the tub and dry off. As he dressed himself in warm clothes, he noticed Rick had left the briefcase tossed on the floor. He kneeled and flipped it open, eyes widening to see he had left well over the promised five thousand. After staring blankly for a brief moment, he slammed it shut and slid it under the bed. 

He made his way downstairs to brew himself a pot of coffee. Pot in hand, he meandered through the cabin and into the Murder Hut part of the house. A heavy tapestry hung down one wall, concealing a door that Stan knew would eventually need to be hidden much better once he started getting more traffic through the Hut. He trudged down another set of stairs, carefully making sure not to spill his coffee. He descended further underground, eventually reaching his brother’s drafty study/laboratory. At the far end a window offered a view of another, cavernous room, revealing the broken-down portal Stan’s brother had disappeared through. 

Cringing at the menacing machinery, Stan took a seat at the desk settled under the window, setting his pot of coffee down next to a mug that awaited him. Numerous pages littered the desk, full of equations and blueprints he couldn’t understand. Among the papers laid three thick, leather bound journals, each displaying a golden, six-fingered hand labeled with the numbers _1, 2,_ and _3,_ respectively. Pouring himself a cup of coffee and cracking his fingers, Stan inhaled deeply, trying to clear his mind. He grabbed the first journal, and flipped to his bookmarked page. Enough time has been wasted already; he had work to finish.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!!!  
> Shout out to beta_19 for the quick rundown on bsdm stuff. I had no idea what I was doing before (honestly I still don't).  
> And also to Fox_Salz for editing/beta-ing for me! I wouldn't have gotten through this with support from them and their boyfriend CommanderChuChu! <3  
> This fic is loosely based in the same AU as my fic Rick and Stan's Guide to Conning the Universe. So I guess it could kind of be spoilers for that fic in the future? Eh, whatevs, idk yet hahaha  
> Comments/reviews are very much welcome!! I'd love to hear what y'all think of my first bdsm fic lol  
> \------------------------------------  
> SPANISH TRANSLATIONS  
> Bésame-Kiss me  
> Chupa me-Suck Me  
> Chupa mi Verga-Suck my dick  
> Qué rico- Very good/delicious  
> Me gusta-I like  
> Me gusta tu boca, viejo-I like your mouth, old man  
> Pendejo-asshole (or stupid)  
> Por favor, poseedor-please, master  
> Por favor, me chup-please, suck me  
> Por favor, papi-please, daddy  
> Dámelo ahora-give it to me now  
> Dámelo-give it to me  
> Mas duro-harder  
> duro-hard
> 
> if I missed anything let me know! also a lot of this is like slang kind of? so it might have other, more formal meanings if you ended up looking it up yourself.


End file.
